Buying Shock Absorber Seat For Boat

E 'evening, and Renzo Rossi, Hajer Fezzani, the Tunisian climb the headlines recently because it referred to as coordinator of the Northern League in a small town in Lombardy, and his teenage son are in a desolate road, maybe the outskirts of a large city, in a disused industrial zone dense and melancholy.

Under a street lamp, neon light barely illuminates anything that corner, we are discussing.

Renzo Rossi, a supporter Padano, is angered by the choice of his party colleagues, and rails against Hajer and her son.

I, who personally Rossi would see well to make the miner, at that moment I understand that entering into discussions with violence would bring no benefit.

I realize that the situation is at a point of being, so to speak, not linear, although the direction you want to go is' A ', is not forced in that line that will' reach. I

effort, although it is in my power to make people understand what was the sensible choice, which really leaves me rather amazed and surprised at least, and I do not mean the decision to indicate a Tunisian woman for that office, but his intention to accept it, and asks Ross to look at that guy, and tell me what's wrong with him, and what a mother so determined and capable, for example, to learn a language and culture other than their own.

Rossi mumbles something, and then goes away. We remain

three of us, and I was surprised the security of my two companions on the choice of being members of the League.
Naive?
or force? My

or them?

Here comes my father.

As usual, sunny and gentle with our two friends, has always been with him all, especially with the needy.
pulls out a newspaper and, holding it open before him, shows a page for Hajer.
I do not have time to look at the newspaper that a guy coming out of nowhere that is all around us, throws a punch in the face of my father, covered by the newspaper, does not see the shot, and can not ' dodge.

then collapses to the ground, but it is not in critical condition, and then I leave it to the care of Hajer and I start to run a scoundrel.

With difficulty, we are close to the quay, join him.
The
grabbed, pulled a few punches and I raise the hood that concealed his face: I do not recognize the attacker, a man in his fifties with a beard and mustache
two
I'm still holding assets, and the dog must pay for having hurt my father, and does not know how I have fun 'with him, that my father and Hajer reach me.

My dad knows that guy: a former football player of Cagliari, a person well-liked by all.
Sure, I said, I was wrong, it is possible that it was he who hit him.
short, forcing me to let him go.

Everything fades so, and I'm left with a doubt in my heart: I hit an innocent person? Or my father was deceived?